Birds Of The Hunt
by jadorejaune
Summary: AU. She'd heard horror stories of Jason Todd. But Artemis was sick of riding the line of good and evil, preferring danger and excitement to caution and normalcy; and people never really stayed dead in their line of work anyways. Spitfire;Artemis/other character
1. Chapter 1

_All My Battles Have Been Won, But The War Has Just Begun.  
_-**City by Hollywood Undead**

* * *

If you had asked her a few weeks ago if she was happy, her dark eyes would've rolled in an annoyed manner, the action so utterly natural it was as if she had performed it thousands of times before (in truth, she had, for the amount of stupidity that surrounded her was astounding). She'd wave you off, asking you to define what 'happiness' meant, and what an unnecessary question it was.

If you were to switch around the wording slightly, and ask her if she was _content_, the twitch in her lip would rise, indicating a soft smile, she'd nod, and say 'yeah', and the harshness of her dark eyes would lift.

You could complain she was entirely too complex to understand. She'd disagree (of course she would.); she'd argue that she was incredibly simple, yet no one these days _liked _ simplicity, and didn't take anything for face value. She hated it- her life was complicated as it was.

But that was a few weeks ago.

When she could engage with the others civilly, almost to the point of _enjoying _ herself (almost. Because if she got too to close, she knew she'd be swimming in a puddle of weakness. Daddy's little girl was _never_ weak, no matter her affiliations with him). She could strike down a load of thugs, and still be home to her mother for a nice quiet cup of tea. Back when the butterflies were born in her stomach around a certain teammate, and she could not hide the blush that painted her cheeks when she saw them.

Those days were when she was content.

These one's, not so much.

She was a hypocrite, not a terrible one, but it could be used in her description. It wasn't that she was distrustful, but the fact that she hid her identity from the others was a prominent _need _, to ensure their 'safety' (please, in their field of work, that was more of a whisper in the wind than an actual word). Her original teacher was talented, tenfold so. One slip of her tongue, and they'd be all dead. Or Worse.

So she kept it from them. Maybe not only to feel accepted without being judged, but also because she just needed to keep a part of herself. She wanted to reign in that one, tiny detail of fabric of her life, keep it locked in, never have anyone steal it from her. It was her existence, and if she couldn't hold it close like a burning fire, she was no one.

In truth, she really was a no one, just a piece in the game for justice, but she never voiced these opinions.

Her family. Their legacy. Her would-have-been destiny.

Her killing sprees.

No one needed to know of that. (Except for the goddamn Batman because he knew fucking everything). It was her gift to herself; no one was allowed to take it from her. She kept her seeds of doubt to herself.

But she trusted them. All of them. With everything else, because they_ deserved _ it, after everything they had been through. All the rough waters she had been pulled from, just as she thought she would drown in it all. They had saved her. And she was so grateful (that would be stretching it. Maybe slightly pleased).

But this, distrust. This secrecy. This attitude that she was a fucking pawn in another's game. (She at least wanted to be a castle. At least _they_ had a purpose.)

If there was one person in the world she felt she owed herself to, would play the measly pawn in any game, it was for her mother. She meant everything to her, Paula Crock did. For all of them. Her blood.

They were playing her; the mentors, _her_ mentor, her father, her sister. It just seemed like everyone needed to move her piece at least a thousand times in this twisted game of chess- and for what? She knew she'd never take on the King, she only moved one space at a time, forward, only striking at close proximity. She sat in the wings, waiting, always waiting for her turn to have a chance at flying, to showcase just what she could do. She was so much more than 'Replace-an-Archer'. She was a machine, a graceful monster, dying to dip her fingers into adventure and freedom.

Those increasingly seeming lonely nights, patrolling Star City under the guise of the moon bearing down on her back. It felt rejuvenating, as she prowled the streets like a lion on a hunt. Green Arrow was not how he once was, his ever longing for family seeping into his professional mindset. It was sad, that she seemed like a ghost now to him, and she couldn't tell what was worse- the fact that she was a distraction and she noticed or the fact that she herself had started to look to him as a father figure too late.

She took to patrolling on her own, because she could not take the blank looks, and the face of someone stuck in the past. It wasn't her fault that Red and him had fallen out with one another due to circumstances that were beyond anyone's control. Over the years of her placement on the Team, her and Red Arrow had come to a mutual agreement of respect, and amenity.

He seemed to have also become very close friends with heroin, and disobeying the Justice League. She laughed, and thought it ironic, yet when he dropped off the radar a year ago, she was sad to see their relationship put on hold until further notice. He was the bishop, zig zagging across the board like a star in the sky. As the moon, she always witnessed it, but she also had no say in its direction. Just an observer. She longed to join the race, and be free herself, as she shot an arrow through the hood of a sweatshirt on a thug about to rob a young girl on the streets. She couldv'e done more.

But she had to restrain, keep her limbs in check, follow the one space at a time pace, incase they could interpret just what her movements meant. Seeing her in all her glory, the cat would be out of the bag. '_Who are you? Who the fuck are you Artemis Crock?'_

They weren't allowed to know. Pawns be damned.

She was craving that indulgence. God, as much of an ass as he was, her father had been right.  
_"Just you and the elements. You vs. the no in society, shoving back what they constantly tell you, you can't do. That's it girl, that's why we do this. Because I will not conform to some sick society that tells me I have to put away my toys. Not anymore girl. Not for me, and not for you."_

Girl. It was always girl.

It was creeping, that wild animal instinct to just _do. _It had been crushing her, her binding on it slipping.

But she held it in, thinking she was smart, thinking she was _wise_.

How wrong, how consequentially _wrong_ she was.

* * *

_It didn't matter that she hadn't been asked to come on patrol with Ollie in close to 3 months. It was fine that as of late, the little notes she found left in her room with little 'encouragements' from her father, and it was perfectly normal, that even though she saw behind the meaning of each message, she always kept the paper in a hidden alcove of her floorboards. _

_She didn't care that Wally had been distant, a project here, a test there, and that this new girl Linda Park was absolutely fan fucking tastic. Zatanna and Robin- no, sorry, Dick 'Troll' Grayson had been a couple for a little over 8 months and were still in the honey moon stage.  
_

_Kaldur used to pay attention, and ask her how things were over a steaming cup of tea; that is Roy fell off the face of the planet 6 months ago, and he had his own problems to deal with._

_Raquel was still too new and adjusting to everything, her own fascination and wonder at the team dynamic eclipsing the realities around her._

_Conner and M'gann were just fucking dandy._

_She never made mention that Shadow assassins had been tailing her endlessly for the past few weeks. That her and her mother were struggling to make ends meet as of late, since Paula had lost her job when the building had burnt down. There had only been 3 break ins to their shabby apartment, and Jade haunted her dreams, screaming of death and pain._

_She didn't feel lonely, used, or depressed. She didn't want to just scream out in frustration, throw her bow on the ground, stomping and whining for all the utter and absolute shit everything had become in the past year._

She refused for a few reasons; one, because she realized everyone had terrible days, months, or even years, and eventually it all came to and got better. She had had an unbelievable year before, and so she felt retribution for her good luck was deserving. She had a roof over her head, a healthy family, and she was optimistic that this was the worst of the worst, yet she could deal.

_Secondly,Crock's didn't cry. They didn't throw in a temper tantrum whenever they wanted. When the going got touch, they broke necks and moved on with their day. It was a dog eat shit world, and she was currently in the litter box of life. _

_These were little problems, and everyone had many. She kept her mouth shut, eyes open, and chin high._

* * *

It was routine cleanup for a Tuesday night; scout the perimeter, enclose, entrap, arrest. Covert, silent, fast. It was like in class assignments that the 'professors' at Gotham A. gave her every day because she was too quick minded and bored during their assigned class time. Painless.

So when the Traffic lords of Chicago were gathered to exchange the new Kobra Venom between themselves, a well placed arrow to the hand of the fattest one there seemed appropriate (almost as appropriate as the looks of horror now etching onto each of their faces.)

The team dispatched swiftly, Robin tumbling, Superboy leaping. Kid Flash, a helpless victim to gravity once again as he plummeted into a garbage pile. It was endearing in a sort of way, but entirely careless, and unnecessary for the success of the mission. Zatanna, a full story above her and observing from a ledge, called upon her spun words to completely encase the ground in darkness, almost like a cloud had suddenly fallen from the brooding sky above.

Artemis waited, calculating the aim of her bow arm to which she'd have to shoot to knock out one of the men. This was her favourite type of shooting; easy picking, high advantage archery.

Robin made quick work of 3 men in designer suits, the cackle following sounding almost sinister as he'd 'accidentally' tore through the expensive material. Zatanna, now levitating past the archer and down towards the ground, tisked at the Boy Wonder's choice of action, but wasn't distracted enough to not summon the loose threads to wrap around the numerous dealer's unconscious bodies. However, the petty man advancing towards the magician's turned back did not seem to appreciate the humour.

Artemis, in glee of simple picking, knocked him clean out with a boxing glove arrow above the chaos, certainly did.

Kid Flash, taunting a few men raining bullets on him, felt bored as he finally turned serious as he sped towards them, with the frontal force of a dump truck. Ramming them into the brick wall, made the speedster cringe slightly with the dull _thunk_that resonated in the area, but Artemis simply felt the shiver of anticipation flow through her.

She had to reign in her emotions before someone noticed, and mentally scolded herself for getting _too _ into the action.

Spitting out what he thought was a witty one liner, the only response Kid Flash received was his own grunt of pain as Robin smacked him in the head in passing, and the arrow she let fly past his shoulder to disarm the thug behind him coming with a machete.

All in all, the mission was going successfully.

Until the dull _twing _ of metallic bullets hitting solid wall around her was pressing in on her, and one caught her shooting shoulder. No sound of a gun had been heard to fire, so it not only took her by complete surprise, but it _hurt_. She tried to hold in the groan of pain, biting her tongue so hard that the blood seeping into her mouth was flowing and filling her mouth at the same rate as her shoulder was flowing down her right arm. She turned her head to see who the fuck had shot her, only to suddenly feel the spins of moving too quickly. She gripped onto her ledge for dear life, dizziness be damned if she fall 3 stories like a rookie. She'd never hear the end of it from her teammates (or her father if he ever found out).

Once she focused once more, the quite audible clang of ammo in a gun being shot went off, and the cry of a little bird rang through the space like a crack of thunder.

All motion stopped, all those present horror struck at the event that someone had _shot_ Batman's protégé. To the petty criminals not defined as being insane (Joker, Two-Face), it was like an unspoken rule not to completely damage the Boy Wonder, because the Dark Knight was the vengeance of the night- as well as revenge. Someone either had a death wish, a mean streak with birds, or was the biggest fail in the history of criminals.

"_ROB!" _the roar of Kid Flash was in perfect timing as Robin fell.

_No, no no no, this wasn't supposed to happen, _Artemis chanted to herself. Just as she was calculating how to quickly get down from her high position, a dark movement below caught her eye. A streak of red flew out right beneath her, through a door to a warehouse, which the window behind her had access to.

The shrieks of Zatanna and Wally, loud and getting higher in pitches, reached her before she became fully pissed, letting her past feelings of revenge simmer for a moment.

"Oh my god, it's in his chest,-"  
"Rob, _ROB _ buddy please wake up, come on-"

They were like chickens that had just gotten their heads cut off. This was a reality of the job, and as shocking and terrible as this was, this was _not _ the time to act like normal citizens.

"GET A GRIP GUYS! You shrieking is not doing anything!" Artemis roared in anger and frustration. Both of her conscious teammates snapped their heads up towards her, having completely forgot she was there. She could barely see it, but the blood rose colouring Robin's uniform was decorating his uniform. It was sick, and twisted, but it was also beautiful in a demented way. But she could clearly make out the shallow rise and fall of his chest, meaning there was hope.

God, this was typical of her childhood, it almost made her laugh.

"Zatanna, Kid, listen! Do NOT take the bullet out. Zatanna, check his ABC's, and then apply direct pressure onto the wound. Don't use too much magic quite yet, we're not sure where it went in. Also, see if there's any exit wounds!" The magician, trembling slightly, but with her chin held high, nodded, and got to work.

"Kid, call Rocket and Superboy from the bioship, explain what happened, and get him out of here ASAP. Be prepared to give him CPR or treat for Shock. Also, _CATCH!"_

She unclipped her bow from behind her, tossing it into Kid's awaiting arms. His uniform was stained crimson, only fueling the adrenaline starting to fill her body. The shadow had a head start, and she needed to end this _fast_. The pain of her shoulder from throwing her bow was like lightning through her body, but she merely held tightly onto her fist, in an effort to deviate the pain.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" He yelled, holding the bow like he had never seen one before. "Why are you giving me- WHY ARE YOU HOLDING YOUR SHOULDER LIKE THAT?"

Crap. She didn't mean for him to see. Well, no matter.

"Got shot in the shoulder, no time! I'm going after this asshole, I'll be fine, get Robin out of here Kid Impatience!" She used her left hand to reach around for her pack, flicking her wrist to extend the crossbow into a ready weapon.

Fuck she was getting excited; she was being backed into a corner, but the pressure was building and the thought of going _full out _ on someone was so tempting right now…

"You get your ass down here! It's not important, you can't do this! DON'T DO THIS! ARTEMIS!" His voice had gone up ten fold in volume, and deep down, past her insecurities about their relationship, she knew his panic was for _her _, not as a teammate, but… there were other things to take care of.

Plus, _no one_ told her what she couldn't do. It was like a death wish just willing to be fulfilled.

"Wally _LISTEN _ to me!" She yelled back, trying to sound as put together as possible. "Rob is in critical right now! Zatanna might go into shock from this experience! You and I both know you're needed _here_, while I'm needed _elsewhere! _You're the one with a biological background, you know what you're doing. Once this is finished, I swear to god I will come back and kick your ass at whatever it is you want, just _let me do this_, and go take care of the more important matter!"

The stare between them was intense. His eyes, too dark to see directly, were trying to see through her, trying to tell her something that she just couldn't understand from this distance. But she wanted to convey everything right there, say things she knew she should have before, but it could wait till later; right now, someone was dying, and so was her patience.

"Alright." He finally relented, 'but I swear to god Artemis, if something happens to you, _I will personally kill you_."

She smiled gleefully, and bolted through the window, leaving behind her team, and bringing along an old friend;

Insanity.

* * *

If you had asked her as she all but flew through that drug house if she was happy, she wouldn't lie to you.

She'd answer _yes_.


	2. Chapter 2

**Authors Note: Oh my gosh, thank you so much for some of those reviews! So nice to know some people were interested in the idea, so hopefully you guys stay tuned through this next instalment. Not going to lie, this one's pretty long. Near the end it was kind of more word vomit then anything, so bear with it. But anyways, enjoy this next one. (ohmygodHiRedHood.) Reviews are always welcome!**

So when you see me coming, you better back down,  
Cause I've been waitin to smack you around ,  
Oh I don't hold my breath , and I don't hold my tounge ,  
And I know that you know that I don't back down,  
To No One  
-**_My Leftovers by Porcelain And The Tramps_**

* * *

Left, right, left, launch, _fly,_ land, repeat.

As soon as she tore through the window, Artemis was a flash, riding the highbeams of the warehouse like the tight shadows of the night. Her right arm, lame and crimson, was losing feeling in favor of the adrenaline and absolute lust for a good beat down coursing through her.

It was so useless, so fucking _in her way_, that as she pushed off with the tight, contracting muscles in her right leg, airborne, she purposely pulled her shoulder out of its socket.

Pain. Everywhere.

She shoved her limp limb through the arm sleeve of her shirt, making it hug the firm of her chest instead of the dull, stale air of the drug warehouse.

Perfect.

Her left leg caught the next beam easily, and she continued towards the lapping sound of leather shoes slapping the cement, as new chemicals were mixing into her system. Guess the deadweight of her shoulder _was _useful for something, if only for her sadistic want of more energy.

She had learned from an early age, that as a defense mechanism, when the body senses danger and felt pain, the brain turned sugar into more epinephrine to aid in combat on an overload. Turning organs into super mode, almost like her own meta powers, Artemis relished in the electricity flying through her skin like a tidal wave; Fight or Flight (She didn't even know until she was older that the flight part meant escape. She was always under the assumption it solely meant to be free and destroy at the same time. There was never a need to choose; she took both like a moth to the flame).

As opposed to rational thinking, the beatings her father gave her as he had trained her to rock and marble, were her favourite, if only for the sweet satisfaction of when she had gained enough anger, the first punch she would land on his face would break his ugly mask.

The second would always break the nose beneath it.

She had learned, as she had drifted from her father more towards the light, that acquiring those feelings of 'Flight and Escape' were needed if she were to pass as a 'sound' individual. And she almost succeeded in losing those animalistic tendencies, because she was giving up her freedom to fight for freedom, becoming a toy soldier in exchange for some good in her heart. Because she knew it was the right thing to do. She had gotten used to being the front line of assault in Lady Justice's duel.

Didn't mean she enjoyed it all the time.

But she pushed aside those feelings for sense and focus, calm and deadly. A bird's blood was not something that was meant to touch the ground; it was meant to stay afloat, away from the depths of the shadows where the likes of people like her dwelled. Robin was a symbol of freedom.

She was here for amusement and revenge, pure unadulterated rage. And for fucks sake, she was going to take it.

* * *

_It was an insult for someone to watch her, and use the words "hard worker" to describe her._

Hard worker? Bullshit.

_Hard was approximately a few hairs past 50% of full potential. When someone put that much effort in, she would gladly stick an arrow between their diverted eyes and end their plight early. She didn't have time for hard._

_The amount of effort, tedious calculations, impeccable precautions she exerted on a day to day basis were excruciating. Her script was all pain,_

What angle best to inflict permanent damage,

_Will I ride tonight with blood as my banner,_

Make sure to smile as you tear through them, sweetie, because here we're all polite and nothing's more intimate than their last breath being wasted on you.

_You could take the girl out of the killer, but you could _never_ take the murderer out of the girl. _

_Poise and control were her chest rising and falling- imagine the possibilities, the pure wrath and misery she would inflict had she let herself go even for a few seconds during a mission, or god forbid, among the others._

_Her last clock time had been 19.7 seconds. 36 men; 6 days without sleep. She was so ashamed, so clearly in agony, a sinner, a sinner (she refused church. She refused God; she was her own creation, her own damn terrible perfection)._

_And the part of her, in the chasms of her soul, laid a monster._

_It asked what had happened to 4 of them- why not the perfect 40?_

_She nearly drowned herself in Gotham River._

* * *

The building was decrepit, almost like it had seen too much and held too much in its days to want to make an effort in keeping up appearances. 3 stories high of boxes upon containers, the damp structure was one of the places that Chicago probably wouldn't boast about.

Artemis turned her trained ears towards the running steps, switching directions on a flip much faster than she thought she could in her current state. Even with the hard mix pumping through her veins, this was person was _fast_.

However, she always won her track team's medals for a reason back at Gotham North. She may not have been Kid Ridiculous, but she hadn't been raised to aim for second.

The loud whoosh of the wind in a coat underneath her swerved left, and Artemis was growing tired of this game of cat and mouse- it was time for _tag._

She launched herself into the air once more, falling like a rock and landing with gravity thrusting her forward, on the upper back of a very well dressed man. Artemis used the reacting force at her foot to push, back flipping to her feet as the man stumbled slightly forward. Holding her crossbow in front of her, she took aim at her favourite part of the male anatomy.

"Got a request for how you want your body rearranged, or am I going freelance on your ass?" She snarled, the grip on her weapon sure and ready as it followed the man's posture as it slowly straightened.

The man simply chuckled, reverberating through his shoulders.

"That's adorable that the authorities think that sending one measly vigilante,' he drawled in a baritone tremor, his hand reaching towards his suit jacket. Pulling it off with a smooth movement, he dropped it onto the ground like a used tissue. 'could ever possibly stand up to fight me independently."

Narrowed steel eyes took in his stance; the jut of his hip, the straight lines of his defined face. No red mask, as she had sworn she'd seen from the fleeting shadow that she had followed_. Huh- must have been imagining it, _she thought to herself.

A cocky tug of his lip in a smirk.

Two could play at that game.

"Fight you?' she grinned, a shiver of anticipation, of greedy hands, of anger and recklessness mixing in some weird cocktail in her brain, 'no, I want to kill you."

He stalked towards her like an uncaged animal, a determined frown etched on his face. Artemis stood her ground, lowering her stance slightly, her mind calculating and anticipating a straight on attack. She narrowed her eyes, as the word _huntress_ sprang to the forefront of her thoughts. _The huntress never lets her prey dictate the game from the get go._

She shot an arrow from her cross bow directly at his stomach area, wanting to pro long the man's imminent end for as long as possible. He dodged it, and in a moment that was almost too fast to see, he brought out the tall-tale image of the sheathe of a sword, swinging low to catch her legs. Using an aerial as a dodging mechanism, Artemis almost came away completely unscathed if not for the distinct _zing _that ranthrough the air, blonde locks falling gracefully to the ground.

She didn't have time to mourn the (albeit small) loss, as another long slash was aimed at her chest. Wind milling away, she drew her cross bow forward and shot for the face; an eye for an eye, she thought bitterly.

Dodging once again in an impressive amount of speed, the man charged directly for her, swinging the sword once more. Back handspring, shoot, back tuck, sweep of the legs, jump, cut in the shoulder, right hook to his jaw- _and people thought this was the worst part of her job_.

To say that this was the best she'd felt in weeks, as she laid a hard kick to the man's shins, would be an understatement.

"A sword? What is this, medieval revival night?" She taunted.

Suddenly getting much closer than she anticipated, he shoved his hands toward her throat, and threw her backwards with great force. Crashing through a few boxes, chemicals spilled out onto the floor with a purple hugh and pungent like smell. It filled her nostrils, and _Oh, right, despite being numb before, _burned her flesh as some of it infiltrated into her body through the protruding hole in her shoulder from the previous gun shot wound. Landing on her bad shoulder was not the most pleasant experience she had ever experienced.

Cuts along her legs, rips in her uniform, half of her cowl missing. Bruises forming along her jaw from when he got her in an admiringly hurtful right hook, and it seemed like a few fractures ribs.

Fighting with one arm for balance and offensive maneuvers was something she hadn't really been trained in, but adaption had always been her strong suit.

_Then again, adapting to the feeling of neglect and loneliness that she'd felt in the past few months hadn't gone as wonderfully as she would have hoped, _said a far away voice in her mind.

The man stared down at the wreckage that was his shipment, prodded the purple drug with his leather shoe, and growled. He then strode towards her, and pushed his right foot down onto her chest with a great amount of force, a few cracks of her ribs filling the air along with both their hard breathing. She held her tongue, but the pain was getting high, and her last resistance was slipping. The nice black eye forming on his dirty skin was an added bonus of a sight.

"Chest or leg, which do I break first?" He said, foot driving into her once more. Artemis gripped her shoulder, as a new pain started to drip its way through her- Kobra venom was not something she had been expecting to roll in like a pile of daisies. However, it did have some nice- _benefits_.

"You're stepping up to tango at the wrong dance, motherfucker,' she wheezed, trying her hardest to maintain a solid voice.

"You know, it's too bad,' he taunted, a grin with bloody and missing teeth forming and his eyes shrinking in obvious pleasure, 'I would've loved to tear apart Robin's feathers, one,' _a kick to her hip_,' by one,' _another_,' and see him withering in pain. But I guess a shot to his ego and an angry Batman will have to do. You dying is just one step closer towards it I guess."

The pressure on her chest was restricting her breathing even more, but she realized that _this_ was the individual that had shot Robin, not the red blur she had seen before. Artemis couldn't help the wheezing, as she tried to mumble something.

"What's that, chum?' he said, leaning down more towards her face, a devious smirk and more force on her body accompanying him. 'Couldn't hear you over the sound of you chocking on your own failure."

His ear was a mere few inches above her chapped, bloody lips.

"You, without a doubt,' she wheezed, each breath coming in hard, 'are the most pathetic, and worthless piece of shit I've ever had the fortune to wipe out of existence."

And then, spat blood all over his face .

He roared, raising a fist high in the air and bringing it down with velocity in his wake. Artemis, using his distraction from choking her, moved her head out of the way as his fist slammed into the concrete, and upper cut him to the jaw. He stumbled upwards slightly, as Artemis brought her legs out from under him, using her left arm to push up her legs onto the mans shoulders, hooking her legs around his neck.

Still reeling from the punch before, Artemis took the opportunity to grab her crossbow once more, pistol whipping him across the face.

Backhand, forehand, backhand, discard the crossbow, _knuckle sandwich_. Each blow was absolutely liberating, with the more hits, the more blood, the more _excitement_ and absolute giddiness coming out in waves.

Dipping backwards into a back layout, with her legs still hooked around the man's neck, with one hand as balance, Artemis flung him over her, head first into the metal support beams.

The man groaned, and coughed up some blood, spilling onto his now torn dress shirt.

"What's that chum?' asked Artemis, a laugh echoing through her raspy breath, 'I couldn't hear you over the admittance that I'm a perfect motherfucker."

The man stared blearily at the archer, and then, with a lull of his head onto his chest, passed out.

_Game, Set, Match, asshole._

A few seconds of eerie silence, save for Artemis' ragged breath, filled the darkness of the warehouse.

But the exterior shadows had nothing on the victorious cry within her. The monster wasn't completely satisfied, more blood wanted, _needed._ Artemis was bathed in it, her own, his, the world's, Robin's: a never ending thirst for violence kept tugging at her muscles, urging her forward to crack, stab, tear at the broken limps infront of her.

The pain, searing, ever consuming tore through her like fire to the stake, as her demons took over, right foot, left foot.

_Stop, please, he's unconscious, we won, we fucking did it, Robin's been avenged, no please, stop we don't need to do this, right foot, left, right-_

"-_ANSWER ME DAMNIT!" _

"wha-what?" Artemis said, whipping her head around checking for whatever had broken her trance.

"_I SWEAR TO GOD, IF YOU DON'T ANSWER THIS RIGHT NOW-"  
_  
Oh. Her comm link. Kid Flash. The team.

"Wally," she whispered, letting her sigh of relief flow from her like a breath of fresh air. _So close_, yet he had saved her/him/everyone. How did he manage to do so from so far away?

"Hey harpy,' Kid Flash let out a heavy breath, 'as terrible as this tastes coming out of my mouth, it's surprisingly a big relief to hear you're not dead." Behind those taunts, she could hear a different emotion. One that made her slightly smile.

"You're surprised? Wow, Wall-man, glad to know your confidence in me isn't lagging."

"_Artemis, switching from comm to telepathic link." _Came Rocket's inner voice through Artemis' mind.

"_How'd Robin?" _Artemis asked, while limping towards the unconscious criminal still slumped against the support beam.

Ba-dum ba-dum, ba-dum ba-dum.

Pulse. Thank her human weaknesses.

"_We're about 15 min away from the closest zeta, but under his current conditions, we're going to have to fly manually back to the cave,' _Said Zatanna, her voice a little more high pitched than normal, but stronger than before when the initial bullet had penetrated the bird's chest.

"_Good,' _she relayed, still infused with melting energy but trying to keep her physical zones away from her mentality (and sanity). '_flying may be slower, but it's a safest bet. Will someone be at the Cave to intercept?"_

"Miss M. is waiting, on hand with a few medical personal from the Watchtower zeta-ing to the med bay at the Cave."

Said Superboy, his cool words slightly soothing as compared to the unusual hushes of her other teammates.

For around half a minute, there was a bit of chatter among her teammates; her breathing was hard, ragged, in spurts, still attempting to control the physical reactions her body was still creating.

Her high was coming down, but a sore, tight feeling in her chest lingered. Anger and subverting lust were still gripping her like a lost lover in the night; she was still fucking wired, and it hurt like a _bitch._

Now reeling with the pain seeping through her aching bones, Artemis moved the man into a semi-prone position; on his side, one arm straight over his head, one tucked underneath his heavy limb. One leg straight, one leg bent, in an attempt to keep the man still, as well as (not that he deserved it) _alive._

She limped to the support beam, and leaned heavily on it. Self-assessment was a hasty affair, yet the paintings across her skin were a canvass of salvation and determination. She refused to be ashamed of the scars she worked so hard for.

"_Artemis,' _Superboy's voice drifted through her mind, louder than the other's had been, seeing as she had been tuning them out for a solid 3 minutes. '_Did you get the last one? We only counted 5 of 6."_

Artemis looked over at the last member of their group- unconscious, inadequate, and totally _not _ feeling the aster. The strange play on word made anger spring up like a coal through her throat, but she shook it back down- Robin would be okay, _he has to be, he has to be, 40isanumberIcan'tface_.

Taking a deep breath, she thanked her lucky arrow heads that she had learned to separate her physical reactions from her mental reliance's.

"_Yeah, we're situated near the back of the warehouse. He's a little tuckered out from playing, so I thought nap time and a cup of apple juice would keep him down out for a bit_."

"_Unecessary."_

"Don't start with me, Kid Squeak; by the way, never knew your voice hit levels above 4 year old girls. Mighty impressive."

"Ah, Harpy, nothing quite brightens my day like your physical absence."

"_Hey, Wall-Man, was poking around a bit on the League mainframe. Found your birth certificate- didn't know it was actually just an apology from the condom factory to your unfortunate parents."_

"_YOU RUSTY OLD HAG-"_

"_Enough!' _mind blasted Zatanna through the link. '_This is not the time for your shit right now!"_

Ah, magician hysteria, what would life be like without you? Thought Artemis to herself.

"_She started it!"_

"Yeah, REAL mature Wallace-"

"_**Ekam rieht sdnim tnelis ot netsil!"**_

And suddenly, her thoughts were damp, padded like cotton to the inside of her head. A projection of an idea bounced right back at her, nothing escaping, everything held captive to her mind. Mistaking initially like a vicious cold, Artemis coughed, spluttering a slobber of saliva and blood, in an attempt to extract illness. The earlier scuffle made it slightly more difficult to breathe, and the uncomfortable sensation of her mind being a closed cell was making her claustrophobic. M'gann's mind link made their minds an open skyway of freedom- this felt more like an underground nightmare.

Panic was rising, and something raw was churning in the archer's stomach. It was a sensation unlike any she'd had, like a beast baring teeth growing impatient for release.

"_There, now peace and quiet.' _Zatanna relayed through the link. '_You can hear us, but we don't need to hear your lover's spat. Artemis, don't worry, we can see a mental picture of where you are currently, so we'll loop around to your location soon. Keep safe for now, yeah? And yes Wally, I understand that this is uncomfortable, no need to flail your hands like a chicken. No, you're not sick, just a little mind cold to keep you two quiet for once."  
_

The man groaned slightly in his black state. Artemis whipped around to face him, eyes wide in confusion, her heart beating, her brow in complete sweat.

_Kill, finish him, make the score perfect, come on little girl, force it feel it-_

_Oh god oh god oh god, Zatanna stop this, please I'll be quiet, Zatanna take this off, I can't sit with my own thoughts, _She thought to herself.

Panic. This was pure unadulterated panic.

"_Artemis, I'm coming to collect you with Superboy, so sit tight okay?"_ Voiced Rocket, distracting her from her thoughts.

_Please, come fast, oh god, my hands, my hands, my _fucking _hands are reaching forward, stop, stop stop_.

Tears she didn't feel walked silently down her broken face, as her shaking bones moved once more.

And then a silent bullet drew crimson roses along the man's chest before Artemis could even pull in a dull breath.

A large shadow dropped from above her, landing strangely with the finesse of a cat. Straightening out slowly, Artemis made out sordid details of the type of hunter to sand in front of her.

A tattered biker's jacket. Dark jeans, slightly stuck on the brim of combat boots, with gauntlets containing from what she could observe, knives. 2 Ruger Mk II's were held loftly in gloved hands-a suppressor barrel attached to the cool metal.

A shiny, blood mask.

"And we come to you live,' came a gruff voice from the red metal, 'for tonight's entertainment purposes."

Blood oozed along the floor like a snake. Mixing in with the purple Kobra venom, a sizzle filled the air between the two.

Perfect; her body was now probably having a siesta with poison circulating within her veins. She was probably wilting away like a lost piñata.

Struggling to stand up properly to engage the newcomer, Artemis had to dig deep for the inner strength. But she was a Crock, and digging deep (ie. Graves, trouble, hole's of shit) was a special talent for the family.

"I don't recall asking for more festivities,' she grated out, ' but you're intruding on my party, and I don't remember sending out an invite to a man with a period smear for a head."

The Red mask turned. A small –_tt - _coming from it. When finally facing her, the face went devoid of emotion momentarily.

The air felt charged. Artemis knew something had triggered, and with a bad feeling (it's always _bad_ with her- never anything good), she predicted this would not end well.

"Well, well well,' the Red drawled, not making any large movements. The only thing Artemis noticed, which was really the _one_ thing to worry about, was the _twitch of grip holding onto the fucking loaded silencer guns. _'I guess I just hit the jackpot. A drug Lord off my list, and Sportsmaster's _little bitch_as an added bonus. I'll take my winnings in a bag."

A bag? Sportsmaster's _little bitch? _Ho ho, so this punk wanted to play ball did he?

"I don't know who the fuck you are,' Artemis said, reaching for a smoke pellet in her belt pocket's slowly. She needed a distraction so she could reach her crossbow on the floor. 'Sportsmaster has got shit to do with me. But if you want to dance?' gripping the small pellet in her weak hand, 'then let's dance monkey."

Tossing the small ball onto the floor, smoke filled the air.

_Amature._

Coughing slightly, she turned around to reach for her discarded weapon, when all of a sudden, a bullet penetrated her right calf. Then her left thigh.

She couldn't even help the scream of agony that flew past her dented lips. It was so pure, as she was taken by her bad shoulder, and flung into another set of crates, andeven more Kobra venom, as it seeped into her crying tissues.

Bracing herself, she got up onto her knees, coughing up unmentionable substances from her mouth. It tasted like acid, and reminded her of her father's cooking.

"Come on powderpuff,' chuckled the Red, 'I want to play house. I'll be the dad."

He stalked closer, boot heels _clacking_the cement floor. He stood infront of her.

"And I just got home from a long ass day at work. You be the dog, and play _fetch_!"

Tossed to floor once more from a heavy kick to the torso. Yep, there go her ribs; nope, she's somehow still stubborn, as she tried to rise. Breathing was almost impossible at this point- a collapsed lung(s) was probably a late present to the party Artemis liked to call '_Let's see how many things we can break today without dying!'_

"_8 minutes Artemis, we're almost there!' _Came Rocket's voice. _The Team!_

She tried to scream her heart out to her teammates, in any way to signal them of her current situation, but to absolutely no avail. Her head, bent and bruised, was affecting her ability to send mental images to their minds, and Zatanna's timely sound disrupting placement was put in at the most critical point imaginable.

Of course this had to happen to her.

'_Fuck it, they'll get here when they get here.'_ She thought to herself, volcano's of pain flowing down her skin into the dirty, dirty floor.

"Is that all you've got princess?' She asked the masked attacker. 'Because right now, all I see is some punk ass who hides behind shiny toys. Why not put them near the door, where you obviously left your balls."

"You're not normal, are you?" The Red asked her, stopping momentarily in their advance.

"Why don't you come to find out, asshole."

He chuckled.

"I'll give you something, pretty bird. You've got sass, and I can't tell if I want to rip out your throat or give you a pat on the head. You're also slightly harder to keep down than you're regular shmoe. I like that. You remind me of myself somewhat." He twisted his weapons on his finger, and then clicked them back into their holsters place at his hips. Lifting his gloved hands towards the red mask, all Artemis could do was stare as he pried it open from the back, to then let it fall from his fingers.

A red domino mask, and a strong chiseled face drew Artemis' attention to regard it more intensely than she normally would to someone who was beating the living crap out of her. Black, slightly matted hair from the helmet fell over his face. But the weirdest feature?

"One white streak?' Artemis snorted, the action hurting everything in her upper torso and throat, but she tried to not let it show, 'You poor old, delusional fuck. Come at me, you ancient piece of dirt." Artemis got into a fighting stance as best she could. It was difficult, with 3 limbs profusely bleeding themselves out, one of them completely out of commission, something or other dripping into her eyes, and an itch for skin on skin contact.

And by that, after looking over this man's physical features, Artemis was in serious contemplation if she meant fighting or fucking.

What she wasn't expecting, however, was him chuckling darkly, rapidly bringing out what seemed to be a knife and charging her like the madman he was.

Currently, her party of '_Let's see how many things we can break_' was going to be a lot higher than she expected (**hoped**)**.**

She didn't stand a chance as the slashes carved her like bark.

She also didn't have an ounce of hope as he regarded her, a heap of disgusting and somewhat obscene, lit a match, and threw it onto the pile of Kobra Venom still sitting innocently on the floor near her.

The explosion ran for miles and miles, but the last thing Artemis Crock heard was the maniacal laughter of some bitch with weird hair and a fucking beautiful face.

* * *

**Sooo that's chapter 2! Did you enjoy it? Did you hate it?(well I sincerely hope you didn't, but it's your opinion!) Let me know in a review!**

**_Next Chapter: Jason Todd has a really odd habit of bringing everyone he knows back from the dead. He also enjoys giving everyone he knows nicknames, a torturing them with obscene sexual innuendos and guns. Lots and lots of guns._**


	3. Chapter 3

**Ack, so so so sorry for the incredibly late update. This one took a while, because I've literally been working 12 days on at work, 2 days off, with about 10-12 hour days. Physical labour sucks, let me tell you that. Anyways, no excuses, but here is chapter 3 as promised (NO I DID NOT FORGET ABOUT THIS STORY WAHH IMAGINE?) I just want to thank the amazing people that have reviewed this story so far, I didn't think anyone would even like the idea of this story let alone actually review it. Thank you also to everyone who favourited or story alerted this! That means so so much to me. Anyways, back to business. This chapter is more of a set up for the next few chapters, but it's seriously important. Can anyone guess at the end what is it Jason's using? Shoutout's and reviews to anyone who can ;) Seriously, guess. I dare you.**

* * *

_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and all your demons._  
_I'll be the one to protect you from a will to survive and a voice of reason._  
_I'll be the one to protect you from your enemies and your choices son._  
_They're one in the same, I must isolate you,_  
_Isolate and save you from yourself._

**Counting Bodies Like Sheep To The Rhythm Of The War Drum by A Perfect Circle **

__

* * *

"_Hello, and welcome to Chicago News at 6. I'm Chris Leslie,'_

_'and I'm Heather Tim,'  
'Tonight's top story- an explosion that rocked Fulton River District in downtown Chicago yesterday, in the early hours of the morning. We go to you now to our field reporter, Hank McCarty."_

"_Thanks, Chris. This morning, around the approximate time of 2:17, a large, reverberating explosion caused warehouses to collapse. As you can see behind me, the devastation caused a chain reaction, with numerous surrounding storage facilities to either be completely decimated, or partially torn. Fires have only recently within the last few hours been completely snuffed out. Police are still investigating the origin of the explosion, yet no concrete evidence has been brought forth. 4 bodies have been found in the wreckage, including notorious drug boss Terrance Ferguson, infamously known for jail time for his murder of the Yikuch family, and his hand in the increase in cocaine distribution throughout the city._

* * *

On a turning note, it seems the Justice League has taken an interest in the event, as members such as Green Arrow and Black Canary have been seen in the vicinity, along with our city's main guardian, Red Tornado, conducting an investigation. Is there more to this than a freak explosion? Only time will tell if they are able to uncover this mystery. Back to you Chris."

Her sense of smell was the first thing to come back to her. The ever present aroma of something that resembled gun powder, worn leather, some rich cologne, and something sickingly sweet swirled around her, tighter _tighter_, until it seeped into her cells. It was over powering, tantalizing, _dangerous_. It sent shivers down her spine, the goose bumps lighting up like stars along her skin.

Oh. _Oh_. That was… oh god…

The sentiment of touch came on rather quickly, along with the rushing feeling that she was in, _oh god_, _so much fucking pain_.

Was she dead? Oh God, if this was death, if it was actually _this _painful, she was in hell, oh god, the heat, it was a combustion within her,..

The sense of agony, the need to go back to oblivion was taking its toll on her mentally; she wanted her team, she wanted Ollie, she wanted her _family_, it was burning.

She was 9 years old again, watching everyone leave her behind. She always knew alone was where her heart would find home.

All that pent up energy from what seemed like life times ago in the warehouse, was churning in acid, pouring into her muscles like a crazed extinguisher, _go faster go faster, _but it wasn't enough. Instead of putting out the flames, they only licked and spurred them on farther like a run away train on crack. It felt like a bomb was imploding and extending, forcing itself inside her where nothing was meant to move, stay there organs, _please just stop moving. _

Looking past all the agony, Artemis Crock's sick mind tore something unexplainable from the depths of insanity.

_What a rush._

Her skin, or the burnt charred remains of what it could be called, with it's entirely too sweet aroma, made her gag and choke, but it did not stop her from feeling a small pinprick in her terrible shoulder (Which one at this point? Who knew for fucks sake), and suddenly a wash of something different fell over her.

Immediate. Enticing. Empty.

The continuous explosions ceased, and her second last sense came to her in a blurry cotton of words, before succumbing to nirvana.

"…._You're a resilient, stubborn ass bitch, did you know that_…?"

* * *

He was no meta, and he would never try to suggest he was. His 'super' title came from his own two hands, his own determination, his own _need for survival._He was a proud man, he enjoyed the fuck out of life; he was a desperate man.

Oliver Queen, in the shade of the night, had snuck back to the sign of catastrophe. It was desolate; still in order to be completely taken down, salvaged, repaired. His emerald clad toe scuffed at a slithering worm on the ground, anticipating the storm over head. Hoping for another day of life with water.

Oliver just wanted the bleak weather to wash away all the fucking mess that was left behind. It might give him some answers.

_It might give him Artemis back. _

Dinah was left behind in the comfort of their warm bed. Roy was 6 feet under ground. He didn't deserve that luxury (either of them, if he was being honest with himself).

Letting one sidekick get kidnapped right under his bent, huge nose, one disappear for 11 months, 18 days, 7 hours and 13 seconds, only to find him without a pulse, a bitchy remark, or teenage angst. His grave was niched back near the reservation where he grew up.

Oliver didn't have a say in this; in fact, he didn't have a say in anything these days.

_We need to honour his memory, Oliver.  
You're not an original 7, GA; over ruled.  
I don't want to get married yet, Oliver.  
You are ordered back to Star City, Oliver. The chances of her surviving an explosion of that size at such close proximity are abysmal at best. She's gone.  
_

He sighed.

Sometimes he wished, as a minority, he could just tell them all to fuck off. He longed for the island, isolated, to let him be king. Just once again, be king of his own mind, his own life.

But as he gazed at the lonely moon hanging lazy up in the foreboding sky, Oliver Queen knew two things.

The worm was going to die.

And he was not going to let anyone have any say about him trying to find Artemis. She was out there, just as the moon that inspired her.

They could all take an arrow to the knee. Every goddamn one of them.

_It was raining on his face, he swore so hard, it was just raining on his face._

"Stay tough, Arty. I'm coming for you."

* * *

Open wounds, a closed mind. Loose lips, and tight questions.

Always with the questions.

_Who. What. When. Where. _**How** the fucking **how.**

She was barely a corpse laying on the makeshift gurney like a doll thrown and left. Singed skin and barely there clothing littered her bones, but she was still there.

Still alive.

Still fighting to keep up with the blood pumping through her damaged veins.

_Beep. Beep. Beep._

He liked that. He liked that a lot.

_Where the fuck is coffee when I need it, _he thought to himself from the shadows.

Battling against the exponential growth of her organs, from the seeping Kobra Venom that he had analyzed after fleeing the scene, which had infiltrated her body. Refusing to become a monster, the blonde's body hadn't reacted as expected- instead of growing into a giant zit of disturbing images, she had retained her regular outer shell.

She had been nearly comatose for 34 hours. For 3 of those, he had been contemplating on just killing her himself to end the obvious suffering she was being put through, 7 of them were a refresher course in his meager knowledge of first aid, and for the other day length, he had had some sick interest in watching her beat the odds, with a few tweaks in the game of life and death. If he hadn't reacted as fast as he had, he would have been covered in over grown body tissues.

Just another day for a rogue bat-ass.

As he glanced down at the needle on his lone coffee table, he couldn't help but be pleased with his hypothesizing, and how _fucking wonderful _science was.

After all, how many other subjects allowed for human experiments and a joy of knowing either your test will die epically, or live with crazed vigor.

Personally, he hoped it would become a combination of them both.

He wasn't a sadist, he would swear by it.

Just a kid with a lot of fucked up connections, and love for the underdog.

Or dead under.

Terminology wasn't really his strong suit.

He fished around his leather jacket for the tiny carton of immature rebellions and plucked a cigarette from its package. Lighting it quickly, he inhaled, and exhaled a plume of grey blue smoke. It surrounded the red mask that sat on his lap.

Images flashed through his mind of the previous 2 days- 2 days without sleep, 2 days of keeping guard, 2 days of watching, waiting, _listening. _ He wasn't dumb, he understood to implications of pretty much totaling the warehouse and its surrounding areas. He got that.

It meant one less group of twats exchanging poisons for gold. One less place for hide outs and keep away's for the terrible goods of guns, slaves, and a bad taste in his mouth.

It was also the burial dumb for three bodies; 2 incognito child molesters, and an abusive pimp had been deposited there before he had gone ahead to –_ fully acquaint himself – _on the drug trade were just a minor benefit.

He had a cemented moral set of rules.

They had refused to listen;

He had refused his safety.

She had been a bringer of bad gifts, strange appearances and small recollection.

It was hard to forget blonde hair that was that fucking _long,_ in a trade sake ponytail. He wanted to pull it out, wanted to pull apart her mind as to who the _fuck _she thought she was, running around with capes with shadows piggy backing like joy rides out in Gotham.

Sitting on top of that ledge like a bird, waiting, prowling, seeking.

Sitting back, counting out his replacement's team like dominos; one, two three. Her.

He couldn't place the tall tale signs then, as he gazed at her from her high advantage. But the excitement and anticipation that radiated off her was ten fold all the others in the room, including his.

He couldn't tell if she was there to sabotage or protect.

And as he watched the little troll tumble down from the darkness into the light where he belonged, he wouldn't take that chance.

His aim was impeccable as usual.

Hid older brother complex won out; Robin's were a sign of hope, never to be snuffed out.

He wouldn't allow it.

The shot heard around the alley met the exterior of his helmet, but not his mind. He was running.

He was a bird searching for his bat, and right now, as he stared down the youngest daughter of Sportsmaster, twitching on consciousness with slowly lifting eyelids, he was wondering if he'd be a Joker, or a Bruce Wayne tonight.

* * *

_She was finished being beaten. _

_It was time to be born once more._

* * *

The action of actually lifting her eyelids, focusing her blood soaked irises, and regaining some sort of understanding of what was going on around her had never been this difficult.

But one thing to register in her mixed cells.

"Sup, MoonBird." His lips moved like they sang, his cheek bones high and defined. But what woke her entirely from her broken state, were the striking blue eyes regarding her from behind the lingering smoke of his new cigarette. The used and dead ends of numerous littered the floor like scattered ashes. She hoped they would alight once more and consume him in fire.

_Fucking twat._

He held her in a polished, spacious apartment. Nothing too eye catching, yet the simple art and modest furniture seemed so out of place for something that should have held modern pieces of décor and top of the line materials. Not something so… down graded. Like he didn't really give a shit about what exactly was in his possession, just that it didn't make it look garbage. It was surprising and , somehow, refreshing to see that not all the prissy Rich boy's needed state of the art bullshit to live.

She coughed. Hacked. Gargled, until a mixture of unthinkable substances mixed like acid on his nice hard wood floor. He gave her a withered look.

She hoped he chocked on **tar.**

His stance was everything but aloof, giving her the indication he was finding high amusement from this. The stance was all but clumsy, the impression that he was wise open for attack, that she could best him very easily if she tried.

Bu his eyes, unblinking and terribly haunted behind the surface, made sure she knew she would not escape her alive if she tried.

She may have been half destroyed, but she was 100 percent in calculation.

Silence wrung out between them. 1 minute. 2 minutes. 10 minutes. Half an hour.

Another cigarette. Another light.

"You know,' he finally said 45 minutes of stare down later, finishing his last one, 'I don't know what all the fuss she always made about you was." _Click. Hiss. _

She didn't answer. He didn't deserve one.

He stood, his rather large body much greater than what she had remembered. He looked over her EKG, EEG and her blood pressure, almost with a profound boredom.

"Personally, I couldn't give a shit about what she said- I'm not impressed.' He tilted his head to the right, cracking following his movements within the contaminated air. 'First rule of Guard duty- never assume a silencer isn't being trained on you at all times."

Oh. Oh fuck no. _Oh._

"And second,' he paused. Then, with an incredibly quick draw, the cold embrace of the mouth of his pistol stroked her face like a lover in the night. She didn't take her eyes off of his. She knew where this was going.

"Your reflexes are pathetic. You've lost your touch from your time away from her guard- assassin."

She hadn't heard that title in what seemed like an eternity ago- could it only have been a short year? The man pulled his weapon away from her, sheathing it once more.

Blinding pain tore through her as she attempted to sit up, using damaged arms to support her. He watched her do so on her own, not taking it onto himself to help her- she appreciated this, for she wasn't incompetent and could do what ever the fuck she pleased by herself, thank you very much. Many others failed to understand that she didn't always need the help- she enjoyed the monstrous climb sometimes more than the ride down.

Out of breath, she finally looked over herself. What she saw was not pleasant in slightest. Turning away, she saw the apartment was, other than the one lone lamp illuminating the two of them and the closest furniture, shrouded in darkness. The inky night sky outside, against the luminescent lights of the skyscrapers. The loud music of the party goers out to be rambunctious and idiotic. But what caught her attention most, was the clock that blinked inky red against the backdrop near the window.

She tried to speak, but problems arose when she could only feel an intense burn in her throat; her vocal chords were shot. Raising her arms seemed to take too much effort after her attempt to move had become an uphill torture method.

He sat back down on the worn out chair, the sound of leather rubbing on leather picking into her ears.

Atleast her hearing had stayed in tact enough to hear something as god awful as that.

He slumped in his chair and then leaned forward on his elbows, regarding her. His face was poker straight.

"Here's the thing- and I'll give it to you straight. You aren't supposed to be alive right now."

She figured as much.

"That explosion? Should've ripped you into a thousand pieces, with me coming back here 2 days ago to clean guts and gore off my body, and then to enjoy a beer on a job well done. All succeeded, except for once unexpected problem.

You refused to die. And see, that's what's got me so hyped up on you. See, I don't like you. I don't like what you stood for, I don't like what you've done; your family's the exact thing that's wrong with the world. Oh, I know what you've done, MoonBird, Talia told me _all _about her favourite little protégé."

Fucking Talia and her fucking mothering tendencies.

"Read your file up myself when I was a living corpse, traveling around for no better reason than an answer to a fucked up miracle. Kind of like you are, right now.

36 men? Impressive."

He smiled a wicked, terrifyingly smug smile at her. She felt like he had just stabbed her in the windpipe. Who _else _ knew about this?

"For a two bit half pipe who looked more fit to play with barbies than bows and arrows."

She thought he talked too much. His lips were pretty.

"But see, you and I, we're not so different. Both of us have this major, red flashing sign over our heads, screaming the most clichéd problem in history."

He paused, his smile disappearing for a poker face.

"Daddy issues."

She was slightly disappointed.

"Sportsmaster trained you to become one of them, to _replace _what he had lost in his other- well, what do you know.

Same. Fucking. Here. Bats always was crazy in love with his Robins."

_And I thought Robin talked to much… wait. Robins? _

"Not Sportsmaster though,' he continued, not seeing the utter confusion on her face, 'oh no, that basterd's straight cracked in the head, don't even know how you've managed to survive this long with his blood pumping through your veins."

_You have no idea. _

"Oh wait."

_Oh for fucks sake, what._

"It's not _your _blood anymore."

_Innocent blood drips on my skin, staining it. Shadow's blood has fogged my brain. Vigilante's blood courses through my heart. Criminal's blood mixes with my sweat that drips to the floor. _

_But it is, and forever more will be, Crock blood that runs through these veins. No one, can ever tell me any differently._

_No matter how much I sometimes wish it weren't the case. _

"MoonBird, I've got a job for you."

Artemis was not taking this sitting down any longer. She was never one for talk, always more for _tear, rip, pierce_. Her language was that of the fight- and right now, her arrows were her main source of knowledge.

She assessed the room once more, bathed in darkness, searching for just a tiny glimpse of her weapon. She wanted it, _needed _it, if she wanted to survive this ordeal, get back to Base, and kick Wally's ass.

As promised.

Because she, no matter her background, never went back on her word.

Period.

"Looking for this?" came his interrupting voice, drawing closer towards her. She felt a sudden, light pressure on her legs, and as she gazed at the crossbow she had believed she had lost.

It was a sign of hope to her, and she let out a struggled breath, yet confusion now clouded her focus.

Why was he giving her a weapon that she could now use to disfigure him?

Not that she really wanted to ruin him, because as strange as it was, he _had_ saved her from death. She grabbed the sleek metal with her good hand, and regarded it.

It was a little worse for wear, but she had known it would need an upgrade soon. She decided she would take the opportunity the next time she wasn't re-cooperating from 'night out on the town', to do so. She also had no tools to fix it.

So, she gazed up at him with wide, curious , yet angry eyes at the assailant.

"I'm a man with too names that need crossing off, and not enough time to get through them. I always take opportunity, and guess what princess? You're the girl guide with a shitload of cookies.

So here's the deal- I heal you; you give me what I want. Namely, your soul."

_Fuck fuck fuck, I called Satan a period smear. Fuck fuck fuck._

The look the archer was giving him was one of pure confusion and slight apprehension of her previous actions. Not much- slight.

But Lucifer sure was a handsome gun.

The other laughed.

"Just kidding, man you should've seen your face,' he shook his head in amusement. 'Nono, just need your utter and total co-operation by infiltrating League data base so I can get what I need."

_Wait. Pardon?_

She wanted to laugh. She wanted to burst out in shakes and waves, echoing against the walls like a song. She wanted to hurt from it, because it was just _too damn funny_. The pain that would follow would even be worth it, if she were allowed to just do this one, simple action.

She shook in silence, vocal chords shot, body bent over, trembling. No sound, only the gentle shake of the bed as it held her. It burned everything, oh so terribly, but it was unavoidable, and so worth it.

And as she straightened, she stuck her middle finger up. Loud and proud, like the sinner she was.

The other man smirked. It seemed to be his favourite way of insulting her in any form of stupidity. Just when she thought she had finally risen, he came to sucker punch her like a hurricane.

Or an explosion that nearly destroyed her whole.

Suddenly, a ripping sound filled the apartment, and Artemis convulsed in agony. Something was still exploding within her, and it was an increasing _annoyance. _

"Ah, not laughing now, are we?' he said, turning his back to her and walking away towards the window. The clock beside him now seemed tainted, bloody red, as his mask lay a few feet away.

"See, I don't think you're really going to have a choice. What happened a few days ago in the warehouse, well, you don't exactly have a perfect memory of what happened."

Another unbearable moment of pain passed during his dramatically unnecessary pause. She knew it was just to let the pain of her own battle seep into her bones, to make her listen.

The asshole probably thought first aid was a bandaid and some spit.

"Not only should you be dead, but there shouldn't have even been _anything _ to fill the hole they'd drop your sorry ass in. Not from the explosion, oh no- but playing the cookie cutter hero is what is not what is going to save your ass next time girl. And neither will I."

_Girl. Always. Fucking. Girl._

Anger, fueled by the pain, the helplessness, the immobility, the loss of herself, was bubbling more prominently.

Holy father, holy ghost. This was hell, and she was meeting the three headed dog.

She was going to feed this dog a steak and ride him into battle.

"Kobra venom mixed with extreme levels of serotonin and epinephrine in the bloodstream is not what the doc ordered kid. In fact, those levels are only registered in severe cases."

His silhouette illuminated against the dirty lights of the city made him glow like a firelight.

"But you? I don't know what kind of fucked up shit your so called '_father'_ and then Talia did to you when you were younger, but you had more than 30 times the normal amount of the chemicals running through your body. That's the only explanation. You're either a sick fuck who has some weird addiction to violence, or you're the farthest thing from a cape I've ever seen.

And you're the scum I _love _ to kill."

_Crock blood runs through these veins._

"The body's natural reaction to this drug is to completely expand, extensive super strength, muscle growth, hardened skin. Your body, instead, kept the outer shell, but your internal systems are continuously trying to expand. Not your shell.

So, unless you want to play god with me, you're screwed."

He pushed on the clock. It beeped to life, and numbers appeared. Adjusting it swiftly, he stepped away and turned towards her.

**7:01:54:37 **and counting.

He walked towards her, and reaching into his pant holsters, brought out something long, something pointy, and something that Artemis would be swearing so hard at by now, you'd think she was in a cell at Arkham.

"Name's Jason Todd,' he said, plunging the syringe into her thigh, 'and you better get on your knees, because service is now in session."

_Suddenly a wash of something different fell over her.  
_

_Immediate. Enticing. Empty.  
_

_The continuous explosions ceased, and her second last sense came to her in a blurry cotton of words, before succumbing to nirvana.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

**So this one's pretty darn short, in comparison to what I've written before- think of it as a small filler that needed to happen to introduce certain people into play. More banter than anything (HURRAY!). By the way, just wanted to say thank you to all who have red the first few chapters and reviewed. Do you know how much that means to me? More than you can even imagine. Please keep sending them in if you're enjoying the story so far, or even if you have a critique because I'm always up for a some pointers! Anything you'd like to see in the story can also be posted to let me know.**

**Again, thank you so much though for the reads and reviews, and the favourited and alerted and gosh, just thank you thank you thank you ^_^**

* * *

_I'm gonna fight 'em off_  
_A seven nation army couldn't hold me back_  
_They're gonna rip it off_  
_Taking their time right behind my back_  
_And I'm talkin' to myself at night_  
_Because I can't forget_  
_Back and forth through my mind_  
_Behind a cigarette- _**Seven Nation Army by The White Stripes**

* * *

She was off to oblivion, like the dead fuckers he'd sent ahead of her. Except for the part where he'd have to catch her, again and again, until she could stand on her own two legs.

How fucking bothersome.

He stood there, after checking her vitals, watching as the poison took to her veins like a cure. Her ashy skin was starting to gain a more pleasant pigment colour. Not the blood rose that had soaked her when he had first laid eyes on her, and not the ashen look of death and destruction that she currently wore like a shadow. Her blonde hair was burnt and cut in some places, but it was golden like the basterd that she had gotten it from.

Sportsmaster? More like a kick to the balls and overpriced twat if you asked him.

-No one ever asked him.

As he stood watching the girls EKG, light footsteps echoed from outside the balcony. Jason stopped mid-motion, and quickly made his way over to beside the window, throwing on his mask as he moved. Drawing his guns quickly, he held them up at eye level, _waiting._

One red boot, followed by the clink of metal, moved to the hardwood floors from the sliding door.

"Jason?" came a deep voice.

He pounced, throwing his arms around the neck of the intruder, legs coming together around their waste as his propulsion sent them crashing into the glass end table. The bloody clock that kept ticking beat on as it fell to the floor in a jumble.

Shattered glass decorated the floor, as leather and chest plate were indented with its crystals. Tossing, grumbling, cursing, laughing and grunts filled the apartment along with the steady beeping of the sleeping patient.

"Tag." Said Jason triumphantly, straddling the legs of the newcomer, pointing both his guns in their face.

The man simply laughed, and hardly whipped the blood trailing down his cheek from the cut glass.

"Not so much." He replied cheekily, holding up a beeping arrow head.

Jason barely had time to curse as he took the knockout arrow, and threw it the way it came out the window.

The dark and menacing winds of Chicago separated it into particles. Jason could still faintly smell the traces of halothane vapour that made up the gas. The Red Hood looked back down at the red head beneath him.

A red head who was currently craning his head backwards towards the gentle beeping.

Roy Harper sure could be a crafty asshole when he wanted to be.

"Hey, Fire Crotch,' Jason said, pocking him in the cheek, causing blood to seep out of his gash with a bit more flow. 'You've got some shit on your face."

The bloodied archer clicked his tongue in annoyance.

"That's the fourth time this week you've damaged the uni. Lay off, we can't all steal money from adoptive assholes anymore." Jason simply shrugged.

"Not my problem you can't clean up after yourself. By the way- next time I find a used condom on my floor? I'm shoving it down your throat."

"Funny, that's exactly how your mom told me to give it to her last night."

Silence rung out in the apartment.

"Are you fucking serious right now Red."

"Yeah, yeah, I know- she would've wanted it up the ass instead."

Jason pistol whipped the other as hard as he could across the nose, and punched the other's solar plexus. Jason couldn't tell what was louder- the breaking of the other's nose, the crack in the armour, or his gun getting excited.

Oh wait that was him simply wanting to kill the basterd.

Roy coughed, spilling blood from his mouth in splutters. Jason stepped off, stripped off his helmet, and wracked his now bloodied hands through his dark hair. He wanted to throw him out, to send him _so far away_, back to where he came from because _who the fuck did he think he was to talk about his mother_, but Jason took 3 deep breaths.

If there was anyone who could get away with a comment like that around Jason without ending up dead, it was probably Roy Harper. Simply for the fact that 1) Jason had done the _reverse _to the demented archer and 2) he needed him. For now that was.

Jason wouldn't admit it, but the year that had been spent together with Roy Harper had taken him a few steps more out of his craze of '_What the fuck is my purpose'_ bull shit that he had spiraled down into like Alice in Wonderland.

Except Arsenal wasn't exactly the perfect fit for the white rabbit, and Jason _absolutely was not _some retarded blonde chick who followed them into tree wells.

He was the kind who would have buried the hole with cement.

"God, ever since I brought you back, I've just wanted to shove one of your arrows up your ass and toss you out a-"

"Ah ah ah,' the other muttered,' not infront of the children."

Jason gave Roy the most skeptical look he could form.

"You're fucking with me, right?"

"We've been over this Jason- your mom's the curr-"

Jason cocked his gun faster than the Flash could strip.

"Say that again, motherfucker, and some poor cleaning lady is going to have a real heart attack at how fucking beautiful your intestine looks as decoration on my wall." Starring him down with his barrel.

More silence.

"No pun intended."

"Aaaaand checkmate."

Jason roared in frustration.

"By Zhaul, are we walking in on another lover's spat?" came an airy voice from behind them.

"For the love of- the sexual tension between the two of you is worse than a cat in heat. Seriously, just bang already and get it out of the way." Came another voice, this one huskier and rougher.

Red, flame like colour washed over like a sun to the moon. It took over every corner until all was bathed in the warmth.

"Very funny, kid." Said Jason, dusting off his jacket.  
"Hey- I laughed." Said Roy from beside him.

Jason simply rolled his eyes at his company, and walked back over to the bed. Crossing his arms, he simply watched the rising and falling of her chest- it was..

Comforting, in a sense.

"So,' said Koriand'r, as she came to stand beside him. "This is her? She does not seem to be in a condition to fight Jason."

"Looks like she got her ass kicked, like a toy who got chewed. Know what you should do with those Jason? Throw them out- instead of _fixing them like you always do." _Said the other female, her light eyes directed towards a certain bloodied red head.

"Psh, it's because you haven't seen her in true form Princess." Said Roy form behind them near the window, ignoring the jab. "She's slightly, insane."

All four stood in silence starring for a few minutes. Slowly, more colour was resurfacing to the patients skin.

"Well, only time will tell. If she proves herself, well keep her. If not- back to the pound for her."

"She is a pet now? Jason, I do not understand." The fire like princess exclaimed.

"No,' said Jason, 'but Daddy is in need of a new pair of shoes. And Crock doesn't sound like _crook _without their being a little truth to it."

"Yeah, but Jason Todd doesn't rhyme with 'Manipulative douchebag' and _boy _is there some fact in that." Said Roy.

"Hey Red, remember that time I brought you back from the dead?" Asked Jason with a gleam in his eyes.

"Yeah, you tend to remind me every time I do something stupid." Replied the archer.

"Which is _all _the time,' muttered the other female.

"And I feel like I'd thoroughly enjoy sending you back, in more pieces than you can count bones. Daddy's also in need of a little target practice- you get 4 seconds."

Jason only heard the quiet chuckle as Roy stepped out.

The faint calling of "see you in a few hours!" followed the archer, and the princess, as they made their escape, but not before she had pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek in farewell.

And then it was down to 3.

"Get out of here, kid. Get some sleep, tomorrow's a big day." Jason said as he continued to watch the final archer.

A chime of a laugh greeted his ears; so much different than her personality and voice.

"Since when do we ever _stay _asleep, boss?" She replied, but complied, and walked over the glass to reach the window.

"See you when the sun rises." She said, stepping over the sill.

He turned towards her, watching as her white hair waved in the wind outside the window, a devious smile gracing her uncovered bottom half of her face.

"And when the sun rises, the fun begins; I promised you a party, and you're about to enter a sweet fucking sixteen."

She laughed as she dropped out the window, the statement of "_I'm 19 soon enough!" _

Following her out.

Jason chuckled, and turned back towards Artemis.

"Oh yeah,' he said,' taking one of her hair and pushing it off her face, rather gruffly. "Tomorrow's the sweet sixteen."

And with that, Jason headed over to his favourite chair, settled down, and waited.

Morning would come soon enough to an ex bat.

* * *

**So what did you guys think? Leave a review with comments on like/dislike! **


	5. Chapter 5

_A/N Say what what what I haven't updated this baby in FOREVER because school kicked my ass and I had no idea how to convey what I wanted to here, but somehow I did it. Gooo me. Thanks to everyone who has reviewed this story so far!_

_This chapter's more reaction than anything, setting it up for the next chapter of AWE HELL YES FIRST MISSION but I'm not going to spoil. That one is already written so it just needs to be tweaked and will be out asap :)_

* * *

_When I'm falling down_  
_Will you pick me up again?_  
_When I'm too far gone,_  
_Dead in the eyes of my friends._

_Will you take me out of here?_  
_When I'm staring down the barrel,_  
_When I'm blinded by the lights,_  
_When I can not see your face,_  
_Take me out of here._

_**Water Colour - Pendulum.**_

* * *

He wouldn't do it. He refused to even imagine what it would be like to try; to fall to his knees, to let all momentum finally catch up with him and ensnare him in its hold, to outrun him in the race and never relinquish first place.

Wally West refused to break down.

It was painful, standing so still and letting the rain fall over him like a cold fire, as he watched the wooden prison drop like a stone from a child's hand into a river.

Seemed fitting, as its effects were like ripples. The gathered ranged from unknown to mega, all for one with the black band that everyone had to wear at a funeral. It was kind of funny in the weirdest way to see Superman in anything less than bright colours, but he had changed for the occasion. Kid Flash hadn't been as smart.

Seemed like he never was.

His uniform was the most disgusting contrast to the greys and blacks of the scene, like a prop in a play everyone knows is not supposed to be there. Yellow was a terrible choice.

_But he liked it._

He liked to think that she would be laughing at him in his awkwardness; punching his shoulder harder than necessary, and telling him canary yellow was for punks with no money for the subway. He had enough change, but not the knowledge to put the coins in the slot.

He was an idiot.

_And he did not like it._

He glanced over to his left, not even differentiating between the rain or the tears that trailed down Raquel's face, the regret and the shame of game that it seemed she had lost. In the case of the hare and the turtle? She had been the slug. Too slow and too late to have done what no one could have, and yet she was a weeping statue who refused human warmth now that another's had been taken from her.

Glancing to his other side, the thunder that grew in the distance to M'gann's heartbreaking sobs, shaking her whole tiny frame as Conner held her tightly against his chest, made him wonder which was going to wake them all from this nightmare first. It was almost as if they were trying to complete each other by how tightly they had wrapped themselves in one another, as if this would cover the hole now gapping at their sides.

Dick stood angry, a lone soldier in the field of battle, _because what's just another face in this game of life, _the mantra his mentor tried to install into his brain that attachment meant breakage and so much wrong. His stance was one of pain, as his abdomen was still healing, stilla testament that this was his fault, all his fault. And Robin, a tiny bird of colour in the grey bleakness that was this dreary reality, who had refused so long ago, was finally understanding just _why _it hurt so badly, _why _was this _ever _fair, _why why why_, _cry cry cry._

Kaldur, in disbelief, his militia heart simply too weary from the long walk home to even hold his head up slightly as they spoke the last words of her farewell, calm anger rolling off him like a tidal wave, beginning to submerge into a tsunami.

Disbelief and incontrollable sadness, like the calmest pool of water ever witnessed. His eyes were a storm, but his body was broken damn.

No one blamed her for the silence. Although in hindsight, she wondered if in reality if it was silencing the moon that had caused such a disaster on Earth. And although Zatanna had called it a secret, she stood the strongest of them all. She had refused to cry hard and succumb to the lost battle, stating she knew the beginning of a new story when everyone saw the end.

She could feel the magic within the air, filling her with hope, even as the casket lay restless in the dirt.

She could only pray on her own hope, manifest it and distribute it to all, that there was a new story brewing.

She could only.

Roy lay 10 feet away.

Probably scoffing at them all right now.

A damaged mother lay in the dirt even as the numbers dwindled, and people grabbed his shoulder as if _that _would cause this to go away. He paid no attention, simply watching **. **It had been the allotted 3 days time since the coffin had been made, and her box that separated them all was finally removed from the small apartment she had shared with her crippled mother. Now, it would be finally set forth into the ground of which they all came, Vietnamese traditions over, grievances still in full swing.

Wally West refused to break down.

He simply drowned.

* * *

_It was the weirdest sensation she had ever experienced- feeling like she was there, but not at all. She was ice cold numb, but burning hot in pain._

_It was the feeling that she had no idea where she began and ended. Like there were extensions of herself on some limbs, but on others, were they even still there? Was her heart beating, or was that simply a creature who was slowly pushing against her, trying wrangle the beast out of her._

_But the worst._

_Was she alive, or was she dead?_

_Artemis didn't know. She didn't think she wanted to._

_Sitting in limbo, she drifted through the shadows in a long race against- what?_

_Time wasn't of the essence. Past, present and future melted together in a cornucopia of colours and pictures, words and emotions, until it created the ugliest picture she had ever sensed._

_It made up something grey and bleak, with random blues and reds, violets and vibrant yellows creeping in from the sides._

_She liked that._

_She needed that._

_Moving through it all, she moved in peace, unaware of the world outside of her sadistic bubble._

_Unaware that a few thousand miles away, hearts ached and minds in shambles were ramifications of death and destruction._

_But that's how it always was, wasn't it?_

* * *

"Wake up."

She groaned, hating the way her skin could finally feel the rough sheets beneath her. Movement came easier to her, flexing her fingers was a much simpler command than it had seemed all those hours ago.

But her body was still exhausted, and she had absolutely no want to bend or move or even _breathe _at this point.

A small click, and silence.

"Get. Up."

Well then. Guess it was time to get up.

Snapping her eyes open, and blinking back the death that coated the lids, her grey irises locked onto the barrel of a gun she would only think would become her new alarm clock.

Using her fingers to spread across the bed beneath her, she lifted herself into a sitting position using her sore arm muscles. But this was nothing new; if she had woken up not roughed up from training or missions, or simply, without limbs at all, _that _would be a surprise. But she welcomed the soreness, and ignored the gun still pointed in her face.

"Are you a naturally born gun totting freak who kidnaps people and holds them for days, or is that simply your optimistic sunny attitude shinning through?" She asked, glaring at the blue hues staring back at her. They crinkled as he grinned, and he stowed the gun away in a holster at his hip. As if it were a reminder, _hey, I'm still here and ready to blow;_ she knew, so as to persevere out of this mess of whatever this was, then find a Zeta and get back to the Cave, she'd need to play it down, and actually play _along _for now. He seemed to be amused by her disobedience to death and authority, so she'd become that persona once more.

She looked around the room as subtly as she could for her cross bow, or anything that could help her escape. The only options seemed to be the gun in his possession, which, as she calculated, would be slightly bothersome to grab, seeing as he was rather large compared to her. Not impossible, just an annoyance. A few scattered pieces of glass glistened the floor, a chair- she could get creative if she wanted.

But beyond her escape plan, she was angry and bothered- she wanted answers, and she wanted them _now._

"First off,' she said, her voice coming out stronger than before, 'where am I, ?" _What have you done to me? _Was she now a violated, blank name on the ever growing list the police were given every night by screaming, terrified women…?

"And here I had thought we had ruined that stunning vocabulary of yours, but I guess you'll always be a surprise, won't you? All will be answered in due time, Moon Bird." He said. Reaching behind him, he tossed a few pieces of cloth onto her bed.

"Here, ' he said, turning and pacing towards the open window. Artemis ran her fingers over the material, un tangling it from the mess. Holding what seemed to be clothes, she turned her head towards him, about to open her mouth when-

"It's either those, or you go out naked. Personally, it would probably be advantageous to us, seeing as, if you're going to be a distraction, might as well be a useful one."

"If anyone wanted a distraction, I think the amount of garbage that comes out of your mouth would suffice. It would drive anyone insane, and I've only been in your company for less than 5 minutes." She tossed back, almost like word vomit pouring from her mouth, without the intention of actually letting it slip. She pushed forward, picking up one of the articles of clothing.

She quieted, simply wanting her standard leather jacket, shirt, jeans and boots, and shoved her arms through the thick material. If it had holes, it was going to be on her torso.

"Those are pants."

Growling, she shoved the blankets, along with all of the clothes onto the floor and stood up. Her legs almost gave way beneath her, but after steadying herself on the ledge of the bed, she regained composure.

Said composure was almost lost as she realized she was stark naked in a windy apartment with a rogue asylum patient, with a handsome smirk on his face.

Not wanting him to realize just how uncomfortable she was about this whole situation, she took to getting the clothes on her body properly. Her eyes ghosted over the image of her own skin; burns, cuts and protrusions littered around like sprinkles, as concentrated in some areas like a child who had simply dumped the whole tub on one section. Her shoulder was a battlefield in itself, her abdomen completely torn and scratched. Bullet entry wounds were, counting one, two, three, a new plain of her body that she'd simply have to get used to. It was horrifying and scarring to see the way she had pretty much been pulled through the gutter by her teeth it seemed.

_But why doesn't it hurt? _She contemplated, horror turning to increasing dread, not understanding how, when she gingerly brushed her fingers across the damaged areas, she felt nothing more than a tickle. Bruises that bloomed felt no tenderness, as if they were simply painted on.

The absence of pain to this degree only ever meant terrible, _terrible _consequences.

"Are you going to keep touching yourself? In that case, let me grab a seat, a sandwich and watch." Came his voice, out from her reverie.

"Go ahead, monkey man, and I promise to skin you with your own teeth."

"Ah, a hunter reference for the goddess of the hunt- how fucking original. You're really not in the position to be threatening me here, little girl."

_Little Girl._

Her body was not tender, but her mind was still in shambles. Prioritizing putting on clothes was the best option.

**Get dressed, kill, leave.**

A simply over sized black knit sweater, a regular, black thin black sweatshirt, a pair of jeans, underwear and a bra that seemed to be a size too small. She put the sweatshirt underneath the sweater to keep her self warm.

"You said your name is Jason Todd,' she said, zipping up her fly, keeping her concentration on not allowing her fingers to shake.

"Glad to see your memory isn't all gone,' he said, turning from the window. He regarded her for a moment, before taking a seat on the window ledge, just watching her. His eyes were bright, analyzing. As a hunter would its prey. "what else do you remember."

It wasn't a question. It was a command to tell him. She didn't do well to authority where it wasn't deserved. The feeling was coming back, the need to tear and bruise, and this time?

She wasn't going to hold back.

Using her agility, she charged at him, not caring anymore about _rationality, _or even reason, as her hands came before her_, strike down and destroy._

He was large, but he was incredibly fast; so fast that he was up on his feet, and circling her in a swift motion, one hand grabbing her long trailing hair and pulling back, the other poised on his gun now pressing between her shoulder blades.

"I said,' he growled, low into her ear, 'what do you remember."

She twisted, the searing pain of ripped chunks falling to the ground like a leaf in the wind, upper cutting him in the gut with as much force as she could muster. The gun was now out of range of her spinal chord, but it was by no means out of options to kill her with.

Thrusting upwards with her palm, she heard the _clank _of his teeth; taking her opportunity, she grabbed his large hands still gripping her hair, and bit down as hard as she could.

He slapped her hard in the cheek out of reaction. Used to unexpected brutality, she quickly swept her legs underneath his, making him tumble down to earth with gravity following him like a lost dog.

Whipping her head around quickly, she looked for something,literally anything that could help her in this situation. Spotting a rather large piece of jagged glass among the wreckage, she sprinted as fast she could, those last few feet, hearing the shifting of his leather, _so close so much closer._

She was tripped, grabbed by her left arm as it popped from being pulled out of its socket. Her cry of pain was mixed with her release of surprise, and slight relief that it wasn't her, seemingly cursed, right shoulder- as much as she had appreciated the energy boost, she figured having the full function of both of her arms for the foreseeable future was a good thing indeed.

She was flipped onto her back, her "good" right arm pushed down by the force of someone kneeling on it, the blood rushing to its extremities, making it pump faster, and harder. However, she could feel the jagged edges of the glass, and as her fingers touched the surface, the whispers of something that had only been prayed for answered her back.

She was breathless, as she stared up into a pair of crystal blue eyes that haunted her dreams like a plague.

_This isn't happening._

"Artemis, Artemis calm down." His voice was deep, deeper than she remembered, his eyes large and mask less as he tried to convey something to her.

_Shh, shh it's alright, it's alright._

Roy Fucking Harper, everything was not alright.

Everything was him, and it was all consuming,_ he was here, he was alive_, he was kneeling over her like he was trying to protect her from the world, but also from herself. Her own eyes were dead set on his. Her chest heaved up and down in a moment of pure confusion and relief and anger and-

"We don't have time for this,' came a growl from behind them, 'we need to get this game in motion.

The click of a gun and the beautiful melody of cracking bones assimilated her ears.

"If we're going to corrupt some party goers, we need to set the dress code."

Charming.

* * *

_**AWE YEAH FIRST MISSION NEXT.**_


End file.
